A Diamond Dream
by MyKingofLove
Summary: Bella is a nurse living in the city of Chicago, Illinois during the year 1918 when the Spanish Flu strikes. Happening upon a young man by the name of Edward Masen, her heart is quickly won over by the fact that something so beautiful-Full Sum. inside. E/B
1. The Influenza

**Characters**: Bella, Charlie and 'Granddad' Swan, Edward Masen/Cullen, Carlisle Cullen, Elizabeth Masen, and Edward Masen Senior (minor) .

********Summary**: Bella is a nurse, living in the city of Chicago, Illinois during the year 1918 when the Spanish Influenza is at its most crucial point. Happening upon a young man by the name of Edward Masen, her heart is quickly won over by the fact that something so beautiful shouldn't deserve to die. Facing strange, and prophetic dreams of what _really_ happened to Edward Masen, she struggles with dilemma of whether or not Edward is still alive or if Dr. Carlisle Cullen is telling the truth when he insists that Edward is dead. But fate brings her across another Cold One during one night when she leaves the hospital late, and she is thrown into another world where nothing makes sense, and what she feared most becomes something she desires more than anything.**

**Side notes and think to be taken in account**:

-Takes place in Chicago of 1918 when the Spanish Influenza dominates the life of Bella Swan (who is sixteen years old).

-This is basically what would happen (in my opinion) if Bella had met Edward while he was still human.

***-Will eventually shift years into the future to present-day.

**And finally, the Disclaimer**: I do not own any characters from the Twilight Saga, even the scrumpdiddlyumptios Edward -or for that matter anything that belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

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The sky was but a mere heather gray as dawn officially tumbled slowly across the star filled-sky. I stood staring out of the large window, the kitchen tile cold on my bare feet. I watched the process until about civil dawn when I began to see some of the few pedestrians multiply as they trudged down the sidewalks of Chicago, Illinois. As for me, the fourth week of my first job at the city's hospital started in exactly forty-five minutes.

I greeted my father who was busy adjusting his black tie as he entered the kitchen, drowsiness apparent on his aging face.

"Good morning, Father."

His brown eyes sparkled at me, slightly intrigued with the preparation of his cheese omelet already cooking on the stove. "Morning, Bella. Smells good," he said with some enthusiasm.

I laughed lightly, carefully flipping his omelet on the skillet. His drowsiness had evaporated as fast as a puddle exposed to summer heat! I was easily flattered, and I took that as a compliment to my own personal cooking.

Charlie's eyes ran over my nurse attire, flicking from the cloth nursing cap adjusted neatly upon the low bun on the nape of my neck, fully through the long cloth apron that reached my ankles, and finally to my white stockings and sterile white heels. "Your mother would be proud of you, Bells," he said quietly, almost formally.

I returned my eyes to the omelet, hiding my face as grief crept through my emotions, resting upon my expression and feeding off my helplessness. "I know," I replied quietly. I silently retrieved a fine plate from the cupboard and set it in front of my father, quickly finding him a fork and knife so he could begin eating.

My thoughts subconsciously began to churn and I sadly thought of mother as I scraped away the residual of the omelet from the skillet. It was the year 1918, one of the most excruciating years I had been through. The Spanish Influenza pandemic dominated most of our lives, and it wasn't only three months ago when my mother was diagnosed with it.

We all had heard of its symptoms, my father, mother, grandfather and I, but we were never quite aware that it would hit so close. We had heard the same thing over and over again from the news, from gossip, from the doctor…"_Convalescence in survivors is protracted, with fatigue, weakness, and depression frequently lasting for weeks_." Oh yes, we knew the story quite well by the time my mother's astonishing fate was submerged in darkness. We were completely helpless, and yet, we were so completely _aware_….

We bathed in tears for only one week before she was gone from the disease wracked world, leaving behind a ragged corpse. But she was also, for the first time in many weeks, very much in peace. I could paint only too beautiful of a picture of her face so parched from pain and suffering. I was grateful she no longer had to feel pain, but it only took four more weeks to receive more horrible news, and for me to feel much, much more than grief.

My grandfather had fallen into the influenza's bloody fingers shortly after, but with a less serious case, something that had lifted my father and my own fallen hopes severely. From that point in time my grandfather was diagnosed to present, I had been volunteering at the hospital to visit him frequently, and of course to help those who have taken my own family's fate with their condemned family members.

I blinked into reality, holding a polished skillet and a content father who sighed happily. "You never let me down," Charlie kissed my cheek and grabbed his police cap from the hat rack.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," I said with a smile as I began to scrub his breakfast plate.

"Do you need a ride to the hospital? I'm heading to the station now," Charlie's grizzly eyebrows raised in my direction. "'Wouldn't want you to walk after all of that work."

I laughed out loud, "No, Father, you'll be late. The hospital isn't very far from the house." Charlie's guilt was always plain on his face, much like the rest of his emotions. I always knew I had inherited from somewhere.

"Alright, Bells. I'll see you this evening. Say hello to Granddad for me."

"I will. Have a good day," I called after him, setting the clean dishes in their appropriate spots. I dried my hands quickly, grabbing the house key and heading out the door in less than a few minutes after our brief conversation.

Charlie's cruiser was already gone by the time I made my way towards the hospital, catching a few eyes of the young men who walked by. Being sixteen wasn't exactly what I thought of as a 'popular commodity'. I just wasn't quite ready to take on the roll as a womanly figure of a husband or children at the very least. I was very simply content with personal status, especially at the moment.

I passed a sign, a crease emitting from in between my eyes as I read it.

_Obey the laws_

_And wear the gauze._

_Protect your jaws_

_From septic paws._

I scowled angrily. "I don't think wearing a mask will reduce the spreading," I whispered harshly to myself as I entered the hospital lobby.

I greeted some of the fellow nurses with a smile and wave, receiving hello's and how are you's politely. Another issue with being sixteen; I was currently the youngest working nurse in the hospital. Many of the women looked down at me for various reasons, especially since I was a virginal youth.

I released the thought, passing them so I could visit my grandfather on the first level. He was currently in the recovery section, his case of influenza so mild he would be able to be released in a week at the latest.

I knocked on his door before entering, seeing his wrinkled and most of all his healthy smiling face clearly in the morning light that poured through his windows. He lay in the cot, reading the November edition of _Carry On: A Magazine on the reconstruction of Disabled Soldiers and Sailors_, a magazine more popular for the case of men who were interested in WWI.

"Isabella, dear," he cooed softly from his position, reaching out a hand. I took it lovingly, pressing it against my cheek.

"Granddad, it is so good to see you. How are you doing today?" I asked concerned with his condition.

"Good, good," he rasped. My Granddad had been a smoker, and it would have been impossible to tell otherwise if he had not been affected by the flu. "I feel ten years younger," he smiled happily at me, his turtle-like face extremely loving.

The sound of footsteps interrupted my thought process and I turned into the golden eyes of the doctor. "Oh, Dr. Cullen," I breathed, slightly embarrassed that I was caught so far from my morning duties.

He held up one marble-white hand, his face genuine. I stared into his handsome face, bewildered. "I have no complaints against you, Ms. Swan. You are allowed to visit your family members. It's no crime."

Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Unmarried, untouched, off limits- not that I cared. Dr. Cullen was talked about by all the nurses, and I was almost positive that many of the volunteered nurses had a certain interest in him. Most women swooned in his site, though that was very lightly put. However, Dr. Cullen seemed very unresponsive when it came to the nurses, no matter how attractive. He never seemed to express much of an interest in women, but there was one particular interest that always caught me off guard.

I had never met a man who was more into his job than this one. I had heard from the night-shift nurses that he would stay for an entire twenty-four hour shift. That means all day, all night he would be here watching and caring for sick patients. I would always feel a burst of empathy and pity when I gazed into his shadowed eyes, while dark bruised and sleepless bruises always managed to accumulate there after long periods of strenuous activity. None were uncared for in his hospital, and few suffered for long-whether by death or by cure. Dr. Cullen knew it all, was all I could conclude after being around him only thrice during his work.

I gazed into my grandfather's eyes, "I'll see you soon, Granddad. Just rest. We don't want you to relapse." He smiled at me, and I nodded, "Father gives his regards. I love you." I kissed his hand, and turned away, slightly upset. His eyes were so similar to my own and most of all, my _mother's._

Carlisle smiled at me, "I would like to speak to you privately when I am finished with your grandfather's daily check up, if you would, Ms. Swan."

"I'm right here. I know you're talking about me," my Granddad mumbled.

I laughed lightly. "Check his hearing while you're at it, doctor. We might have a serious case of deafness." I teased mildly with my granddad.

"Hmph," my grandfather looked back at his magazine, ignoring us.

I exited, leaning against the wall beside my grandfather's door as I waited with more than patience for Dr. Cullen's return. Eight minutes had passed when he appeared, quietly shutting the door behind his handsome form. A small smile lit at his lips when he met my eyes.

"You're grandfather is doing quite well, Ms. Swan," He motioned for me to walk with him. I slowly followed beside him, only a rugged rag doll compared to the perfect porcelain doll that stood as Dr. Cullen. "It won't be long, now, that we will see him out of this hospital and back at home where he belongs," he continued to smile seriously down at me, though his eyes were light-hearted and so very wonderful….

"But that wasn't why I requested your audience, Ms. Swan," Dr. Cullen's smile faded and his eyes hardened ever so slightly. I could just vaguely make out the change in mood. I blinked slowly, registering the expression of his face to the way his mood changed. The thought hit me like a wave of cold water; there was something wrong. Whether or not it involved me was begging to weigh down my heart as if there were a stone imbedded in my left breast. Was there another condition that my grandfather was suffering from without my knowledge?

A sharp wheezing sound caused my thoughts to burst and flutter aimlessly in my head as I thought through everything that could possibly go wrong. The worried look I caught from Dr. Cullen woke me from my cynic thinking, and the wheezing sound that began to sound routinely stopped. I realized that each wheeze came from my parched throat, and that Dr. Cullen's concerned look stemmed from my wheezes.

"Maybe some water, Ms. Swan?" He ventured, looking at my face closely.

I closed my gaping mouth and shook my head with half embarrassment. "No, thank you."

Dr. Cullen's eyes narrowed, but he seemed to take my reply seriously as my eyes begged for the answer.

"Now, before I say what has been bothering me, I would like to hear your opinion," he waited coolly, noting the way my expression remained open and did not change. "Your grandfather will most likely be out shortly, and I was wondering whether or not you were going to remain as a volunteering nurse?"

For some unknown reason, a drop of guilt washed over me, and my mind sputtered for a response. Instead, I stared at him with a blank expression.

The question definitely caught me off guard. My plan was originally for me to leave when my grandfather recovered, and that had maybe already happened. But the more I thought of leaving, the more I struggled with idea of actually _leaving_ and knowing I wouldn't return to care for sick and innocent patients. Something kept dragging me back, something too powerful to overcome and control.

"I-I'm not sure, Dr. Cullen. I didn't think I would be coming back once my grandfather recovered, but believe it or not, I _like _it here." I winced when his chuckle greeted my ears, and I blushed hiding my face as I stared at my sterile-white heels.

"Was there ever a time you doubted the hospital experience?" Dr. Cullen pressed, seeming to take my accounts seriously. I briefly wondered why. It never seemed my actions or thoughts proved important to the handsome and pale doctor.

"Well, yes," I laughed without humor, my tone dry. "You've seen my reaction to blood-" I shuddered, my words dying as I looked closely at Dr. Cullen's ludicrous expression. "What?"

Dr. Cullen chuckled, a sound much to calm for the scenario. "I understand you're distaste, Ms. Swan. To be truthful, I was hoping you would take my offer, but if your unease will stand in the way then maybe I was wrong."

"Offer? Dr. Cullen, please go on," I shook my head, a burst of light suddenly emitting from my tone.

"I am willing to give you a permanent place here in the hospital. I've watched you work with patients, Ms. Swan. It's something that strikes me by surprise." I looked at him with a mixture of surprise and excitement.

"Here? In the hospital?" I whispered half to myself, and Dr. Cullen nodded.

"You're work is quite unerring, to the slightest degree at the least. You bring joy to the patients, I've seen it myself. But as equally as important, the hospital needs as many free hands as possible. The influenza is far from over, I'm afraid," his words echoed in my mind darkly. "However," his voice rang clearly and beautifully, his tone changed to one that was much brighter, "do not feel obliged, Ms. Swan."

I blinked slowly at him, my head slowly nodding as I took his question seriously. "I shall ever wonder what I would think if I decided to leave the option with another. I also believe part of me belongs here. Dr. Cullen, I think I would be very happy with a job here. I accept the offer."

A small smile turned at the corners of the handsome doctor's lips, an angelic reflection of my own smile. "I am glad to hear," he declared, nodding his head in my direction, his face growing serious "Unfortunately, some other patients have been recruited into the hospital. Two out of the three suffer from sever cases of the influenza, and according to Nurse Borrow they are not doing very well."

I grimaced. The world was falling into darker and darker hands, something that was very hard to stomach. Dr. Cullen must have noticed my uneasiness, and he frowned in sympathy.

"I may need some assistance, if you wouldn't mind, Ms. Swan." I nodded, slowly following the doctor with a look of renown somberness. He turned to me as we continued to pace across the tile quickly. "Tell me, Ms. Swan, are you familiar with the Masen's?"

The Masen's… the surname struck an unknown cord in the back of my mind. I took a small breath, realizing I was suddenly too tired to try and fiddle with my odd mind.

"No, I cannot say that I am," I said simply. I did not admit, however, that the name suddenly made me curious.

Dr. Cullen nodded. "Our newest patients," he spoke softly as we entered the critical wing of the hospital. I nodded, narrowing my eyes straight ahead as we passed an open door with a dying boy whose soft cries of suffering were tended to by a nurse. I shuttered, closing my eyes briefly.

The critical wing was where death smelled strongest. It was where people lay dying for weeks, and if not weeks they lay there dead within hours. It was also where the smell of blood filled the rooms as the patients spewed blood from their pale noses and cold lips. I usually avoided this area because of the blood, and stayed with patients who were mostly recovered. I was born with the unjust gift of fainting at the sight of blood; few did not let me forget it.

Dr. Cullen led me to a door, stopping as he set his hand on the handle. He looked at me with his golden eyes, a frown the only flaw on his perfect face that was as pale as the light cast from the moon in a diamond-littered sky. "Do not be alarmed," he warned. He opened the door and I peered over his shoulder to get a glimpse of these Masens.

The scene that mat my view caused my breath to catch and my pulse to falter uneasily. A middle-aged man with sickly-pale skin was lying with silent lungs, and blood-red lips. I wondered if he was breathing until a quick and labored breath made his chest rise faintly. His cheeks were slightly swollen and evidence of a nose bleed was apparent despite the fact that it had already attended to before. His mouth lay ajar, a tongue coated with thick saliva hidden behind straight teeth. I noticed how he rarely stirred; not a sound came from his coated throat.

Beside this dying man who was most likely Mr. Masen was a woman who must have been his wife. Though she was also the color of a pathogen's work, her breathing was stronger, the sign of sickness there, but not so severe. At that moment, she coughed twice, a feeble sound that could make the most pig-headed of men collapse to his knees in shame and sorrow. Sweat beaded at her upper lip and around her hairline, the signs of fever already setting in. I winced inwardly as I gazed upon their mangled forms.

A sound to the right caught me off guard and I realized there was another present in the room. I suddenly remembered Dr. Cullen's remark about _three_ new patients. I slowly turned to look at the cot, my eyes meeting yet another pale member of the influenza. But this time I saw an angel, an angel standing before the gates of death.

"Edward Masen Sr. and his wife Elizabeth Masen," Dr. Cullen read from a yellow paper that he had retrieved off a folder on one of the metal tables. I glanced at Dr. Cullen for less than a second before I squinted in pain as I watched the face of the boy. "And their son, Edward Masen Jr."

With the sound of his feeble breathing in my ear, I watched Edward Masen Junior with a horrible realization. My mouth unhinged itself slightly and specks of black began to block my vision. For a moment I watched the ceiling grow far and the tile close. I had almost nearly collapsed if it had not been for the strong and stable arm of Dr. Cullen that secured me. One thought echoed in my mind as I struggled to stand:

Nothing so beautiful deserved to die.

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_******_**Well, guys, What do you think? Good, bad, a little boring? Don't forget to review. Maybe if I can at least get 5-10 reviews, I'd be happy. But maybe that's asking for too much. Anyway, I'm open for opinions!**

**Your opinions matter the world to me! So don't forget to review!**


	2. Nightmares, or was it?

_**Characters**__: Bella, Charlie and 'Granddad' Swan, Edward Masen, Carlisle Cullen, Elizabeth Masen, Edward Masen Senior (minor), and Margaret Woods._

_******__**Summary**__: Bella is a nurse, living in the city of Chicago, Illinois during the year 1918 when the Spanish Influenza is at its most crucial point. Happening upon a young man by the name of Edward Masen, her heart is quickly won over by the fact that something so beautiful shouldn't deserve to die. Facing strange, and prophetic dreams of what __really_ happened to Edward Masen, she struggles with dilemma of whether or not Edward is still alive or if Dr. Carlisle Cullen is telling the truth when he insists that Edward is dead. But fate brings her across another Cold One during one night when she leaves the hospital late, and she is thrown into another world where nothing makes sense, and what she feared most becomes something she desires more than anything.**

**Side notes and think to be taken in account**:

-Takes place in Chicago of 1918 when the Spanish Influenza dominates the life of Bella Swan (who is sixteen years old).

-This is basically what would happen (in my opinion) if Bella had met Edward while he was still human.

***-Will eventually shift years into the future to present-day.

**Disclaimer: **Stephenie Meyer has decided that I still cannot own all things Twilight. J

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Chapter Two

"Miss Swan," a voice murmured urgently in my ear. "Miss Swan!" A cold hand shook my shoulder, causing my head to snap back and forth on the fragile cervical vertebrae that made up my neck. I watched the room fade between light and dark as the smell of blood reached my scent glands. It was salty and rustic and smelled of everything I feared. My vision of the young man who lie dying in the cot blurred, and I felt cold breathing stir loose strands of hair as they tickled my face.

"Dr. Cullen!" A woman's voice reached my ears and I heard her feet rush over towards us. "What's happened?"

"Miss Woods, please escort Miss Swan out of the critical wing. It seems I had misjudged and ignored my intuition," Dr. Cullen's tone lit my cheeks aflame and I moaned a feeble apology as I was dragged away.

"Don't worry, Bella, I'll have you cleared up in no time," the woman soothed as she lead me towards a bench just outside of the critical wing. I peered towards her groggily, recognizing my old friend Margaret Woods. She sat me down while my head swam in waves of pain as I clutched my stomach with my right hand. Two gray eyes met my vision and a glass of water was handed to me.

I sipped it, taking deep breaths. "Thank you," I murmured to her, trying to smile. I was sure it looked like a grimace from any outsider's point of view.

"Any time," she replied. Her arched eyebrows collapsed over her long eyelashes as she studied my face. I braced myself for any questions, knowing for a fact what was coming my way.

"Bella?" She asked, looking directly into my eyes. I realized she was kneeling in front of me, her very short and fair hair sticking out of the nurse cap in odd, straight, and choppy angles. She was no older than me, except for about two years, but our morals were strictly set on two different ideas.

"Yes, Margaret?" I mumbled, resting my head against the wall.

"Was it the blood that did you this time?"

I froze, my mind wobbling on the threshold of a worn and thin tightrope. In my mind's eye, I saw my torso lean from one side to the other. On my right, I saw the sick and wonderful face of the dying Edward Masen, and on my left, a river of blood one-hundred feet down, only a long scarlet snake slipping across gray stone. Before I knew it, the rope beneath my feet snapped.

"Partly," I murmured self-consciously.

Margaret's eyes widened momentarily. "Partly?"

"I became faint when I saw their faces," I explained, not including the primary _person_ that had caused such wooziness. "The blood finished me." Half of it was true, at least. The blood _did_ cause some light-headedness, and most of the fainting, but Edward Masen Junior caused the other part of the light-headedness. My heart jumped when I thought of his dying face, and I instantly pushed the thought away. Edward wouldn't die… would he?

"Oh," her curiosity deflated awkwardly, and she looked away. I wondered why she seemed so disappointed with my answer, but I didn't press the issue.

I smiled half-heartedly, "Do you think Dr. Cullen ever regrets his decision for allowing me to set-foot in here weeks ago?"

Margaret laughed brightly, her rosy cheeks glowing in the artificial light from above head. "I don't think he would be able to live without you, Bella," she took my empty glass from my hand and set it on one of the near-by carts. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and I laughed twice. Truth was that she voiced my fears facetiously.

I stood carefully from the bench, testing my balance. "Maybe it will pass."

"What, your phobia of blood?" Margaret looked at me with severe disbelief. She melted into laughter again along with me as we mocked the impossible.

"Maybe not," I added quietly as I shot a remorseful glance behind me towards the critical wing. "The critical wing will just have to do without me."

Margaret gave me a sympathetic look and took my arm, "Come along, Bella. There's plenty who still need our help in the recovery wing. Have you seen your grandfather yet?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, I hope you don't mind seeing him again."

The remaining day at the hospital passed slowly and uneventfully, though my conscious secretly longed to catch a glimpse of the handsome Edward just once more. However, despite my longing and suffering, I had to put the thought of his dying, angelic face in the back of my mind in order to stay focused.

More and more victims of the Spanish flu seemed to ooze into the critical wing, and I said good-bye to a lot of familiar faces from the recovery wing who had relapsed. Some faces even lost their lives that very hour, some seeming to shrink into brittle, living corpses. I watched my grandfather like a hawk, seeing him every hour-and-a-half or so, just to reassure myself that he wasn't about to die like so many of the people I had visited only the day before.

Besides the few doctors I talked to, I didn't see Dr. Cullen once, and I wondered at one point if it was more than a coincidence that we didn't see each other. I secretly wallowed in thoughts of shame; I was almost sure he regretted asking me to become a nurse. _"It seems I had misjudged and ignored my intuition," _Dr. Cullen's voice echoed in my fathomless mind, a sound equivalent to a high-pitched keening. I winced when I thought of his words, my cheeks stinging painfully with the blood of my emotions.

It was about six o'clock on the dot when I noticed a slab of white marble approach me from my right. I didn't move as I pretended to read the recovery report of Mr. Clarence Dailey, who currently resided in room twenty-one. Dr. Cullen cleared his throat as he neared, and I looked up with mock-surprise.

"Dr. Cullen," I greeted as I stared into his golden eyes. "I was just about to check Clarence -"

"No, Miss. Swan, you've done enough for today." I furrowed my eyebrows, preparing to respond but a white hand stopped the words that danced on my tongue. I looked at his hand, the way it held no traces of wrinkles as it continued to suspend in the air with some indication for me to stop any thought. He wanted me to listen, and for a second I almost thought I was going to try and escape. But, unfortunately, my feet did not budge as I shifted my upper body weight towards the nearest exit. I wondered if it would have been easy to out-run him.

"Please, Miss Swan, if you would listen to what I say," he said sincerely, no form of authority in his lovely voice that sounded so much like the bells of a church tower.

I nodded once, refraining from exposing my dignity with an utter of the simple "yes" answer. He smiled as if he could read my mind, and with one eloquent breath he apologized.

"I apologize, Miss Swan. I apologize because I knew better than to expose you to the turmoil of your fear, to the thing you struggle with almost every day."

I stared at him blankly, a feeling of self-loathing crawling through ever limb of my body. And then, as the anger I felt towards my initial fear began to worsen, a feeling of hopelessness caused my anger to reside and I was left dry and exhausted. I looked towards the white-tiled floor momentarily, frowning.

"It's okay," I replied quietly, now looking into his golden-ochre eyes. I sighed loudly, repeating those two words with more confidence. "It's okay." I knew he wouldn't buy it if I left it at my first tone, which happened to be very unpersuasive.

But then, as I continued to look into his golden eyes, I realized something that made the small hope I had for overcoming my fear become completely crushed: Dr. Cullen didn't _believe _me. Wasn't that… if a person didn't believe you, their faith was equal? And if they didn't have much faith in you, surely they didn't believe _in_ you? I stopped breathing for three seconds as I continued to stare at his wonderful face with wide brown eyes.

"You don't believe me!" I accused out loud, holding one of my hands to my mouth. "You honestly don't think that I can overcome my fear! _You're _a doctor, and _surely_ if a doctor doesn't think so, then it's a _fact_ that it's impossible! You regret it don't you?" I breathed out loudly as my words echoed in my ears twice as sharply as they came out.

I was very stupid. I was so stupid, that I realized it at once and all I wanted to do was snatch my accusation out of the air and stomp on it until it was small enough to appear invisible. I wanted to run, run until I never saw this pretty-faced doctor again in my entire life. I wanted to _hide_.

And then, as I slowly pondered my accusation, I wondered for the first time why I had exploded. The answer suddenly became very simple; I had been dwelling on it for hours, so how could it have _not _escaped somehow? Stupid, stupid, Bella. Stupid. I continued to stare at Dr. Cullen, my cheeks turning a bright red.

Dr. Cullen frowned, his eyebrows crumbling into a very innocent mask. I wasn't fooled.

"Regret what exactly, Miss Swan?"

I sighed, trying to calm my nerves. "I'm not one of your ditsy nurses, Dr. Cullen. I don't try to follow you around hoping to become one of your lap-dogs. I didn't take this job just because -like so many other women here- I secretly hoped to catch your eye. All I wanted was to watch my grandfather recover, and so I did. But now," I slanted my eyebrows as he continued to look at me with curious eyes, "now that I have taken this job seriously, I need truth. All I need is truth. So don't think I am easily fooled, Dr. Cullen, because I am not. Don't pretend to know nothing of what I am speaking of. You are brilliant, Dr. Cullen, I have watched your work, and therefore I am completely aware of how bright you are. You know exactly what I speak of. You do not need to play dumb with me."

For the first time in my four weeks of working in the hospital, his reaction surprised me. He nodded once, a small smile plagued with comprehension on his perfectly crafted lips. His eyes told the same story; he understood my point.

"Miss Swan, you continue to surprise me in the oddest of ways," his tongue accentuated every syllable perfectly. And then, his expression changed to a softer and more serious one. "No, I do not regret asking you to become one of our faithful nurses."

Relief slammed against my worry like snow on a badly burned finger. A smile tugged at my lips, and before I could stop it, I laughed loudly.

"You're free to leave, if you wish," Dr. Cullen smiled at my happy mood.

"I'd like to say good-night to my grandfather," I replied, already half way down the hallway.

"Er- uh, Miss Swan, about your grandfather's quarters for tomorrow," Dr. Cullen held up one of his hands, slightly bewildered that I had left so fast.

But I didn't listen, I lost site of his marble-white figure as I came upon my grandfather's room. Anything about where he stayed could be talked about tomorrow. I was finally relieved to have my self-consciousness and embarrassment -not to mention my worry- out of the way. It was if I had been wading in ocean water up to my knees for the entire day, and finally, when exhaustion racked my muscles, the sandy-white shore was there to break my fall. Yes, I liked that; the white shore with its golden shells that shone as bright as the sun in the forget-me-not blue sky… My metaphor dissipated as I knocked on my granddad's door, my thoughts already moving around from one place to another.

After cooing lovingly to my granddad, I made homeward, the sun already beginning to droop in the heather blue-gray sky. Rays of red-orange fire shot out from the sun's beams and I wondered if the fire could burn away the sickness that harnessed the world. I saw few pedestrians, and those I did see walked with heads down in a brisk pace. Maybe the sunset's color reminded them of the blood that the their family had bled before they had died, or maybe it was an ill omen for all. Nonetheless, I managed to get home, my mind constantly teetering on the edge between depression and content.

Charlie had been dropped off early, the sign of the police car no where to be found. I reasoned that he no longer needed to take the police unit home. I also wondered if maybe he decided to go back to horse-back, instead.

Despite it all, I was happy to find him home when I walked through the door, giving him a much-needed and cheerful kiss on the cheek.

"Good evening," I greeted.

"Hello, Bella," he smiled up at me from his place on the sofa. His eyes once again skimmed over my nurse-attire, and I saw the many thoughts that flicked across his face. Pride, worry -the kind fathers contained-, concern, hesitation, sadness, love, happiness. It was all written there, as if his wrinkles were the lines of a book, and each contained a sentence with words that could conjure the image of the most amazing of emotions.

I patted his shoulder briefly, "Granddad is doing fine. Dr. Cullen said he will be out in no time." Charlie smiled up at me, murmuring his gratitude to the pale doctor. "And, Father, you won't believe it."

"Believe what?"

"Dr. Cullen offered me the job of becoming one of the permanent nurses," I kept my voice soft despite the excitement. I loved to make my father proud.

"That's excellent, Bells!" Charlie wrapped an arm around me as he stood up, but we kept our faces away from each other in subconscious fear of spreading any germs.

"Yes," I agreed. "How was work?"

Charlie shrugged, his arm falling away from our brief hug. "I decided to go back to patrolling with a horse. Bill says it's best…"

I frowned, looking at my father more closely. "It would be best? How so?"

Charlie looked troubled, but he shook his head as if to clear away the thought that bothered him. "Well it's not just Bill who says it would be best, but the Department of Health. They're trying to reduce the spread of the influenza."

I raised an eyebrow, "The health department? How can _they_ control the spread of sickness." The annoyance must have reached my voice because Charlie gave me a sympathetic look.

"Not control, Bella, but hopefully _reduce_ the spread of the sickness. With the police-units, two or men are in close-quarters of each other, so you could imagine how quickly it could spread if one of us in the car happened to be infected. With a motorcycle or a horse, the risk of it being spread must reduce it some," Charlie brushed a stray lock of hair from my forehead as I glared angrily.

"And I suppose the masks that we are supposed to wear help, too?" I said harshly, my voice mocking the decisions of the Department of Health. "Wearing face masks are about as effective as trying to block a sandstorm with chicken wire. What good will taking police-units away from the people do? This is a _pandemic_, Father, a pandemic. How can the Spanish Flu cause so much destruction but be reduced by simple measures? It's too strong," I frowned, glowering at the wrinkles in Charlie's forehead.

"I know, Bells," was all he murmured.

I sighed, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Father," I apologized. I was starting to feel guilty after getting angry. "It's just, I'm upset that things are so… so-" my voice broke, and I looked to the floor as I pictured my mother's face. "Death is just so unjust," I whispered. The pain in my heart deepened as I thought of my mother. She was so lovely.

I felt a hand caress my shoulder, and I looked up into my father's eyes. I saw how they were slick and glassy with rims filled with tears. I watched as one tear slid down his cheek and linger at the five-o'clock shadow on his chin. It was a liquid diamond filled with the love he still shared for his wife that he had not been ready to lose. Again, I saw his emotions fan across his face in an array of many colors.

Sad was blue, hurt purple, pain and fear a charcoal color, his love a bright mix of pinks and lavenders that turned sour with yellow when he realized the loss. There was no green, he wasn't envious or jealous of Death. He was only angry with scarlet.

For a moment of silence, we comforted each other with silent mourning before I left him alone in the living room to wallow with pain as I prepared our dinner. The chicken with mushroom sauce did not taste as good as it would have been under the affect of loss and sadness. Charlie and I ate in silence, the chicken as bland as paper on a dry tongue. I struggled to wash it down with water, another bland-tasting thing that only oozed down my throat uncomfortably.

When we were finished, I cleared the table and routinely began to wash and dry the dishes. I kissed Charlie good-night and disappeared into my room, which was on the second-story of our town-house.

The cool, blue walls soothed my silent grief, and I changed from my nurse attire to a breezy night-gown. It was darker than night when I turned off the lamp by my bedside, and for a long time I could not sleep.

When I finally did, a strange dream came to me, one that was neither sad nor happy:

Stars did not dot the sky as they did on any normal night. Though it was dark, the night was as clear a dewdrop in the winter sun. I was sitting in a strange alley, one much like the many in Chicago that were in-between rows of buildings.

I was aware of something approaching from the end of the alley, but I did not move, fear and curiosity gripping my heart and sense. Two golden eyes glinted at me, but before I could recall what was happening, a monstrous crack exploded in the night air.

Flames leaped up around me, my cries of surprise cut short from the other screams of people who suddenly appeared around me. I was knocked onto my back, stranded to be consumed by the crackling flames and their greedy fingers. I screamed as I felt the flames scorch my skin, and two red eyes glittered wonderfully at me. The eyes faded as soon as they appeared, and I was suddenly losing consciousness despite the burning.

All I remembered where the flames…The flames… it was all over.

The grotesque flames in my dream awakened me to a cool midnight in my room. Sweat beaded at my hairline, and I turned, burying my face into my pillow to escape the horrible pictures of the fire. Tears soaked into my pillow, and I shuddered at the thought of burning alive by flames of malice.

I was too afraid to move, afraid that the fire would come back like it had out of nowhere and consume me. In that state, I fell asleep, the nightmare lurking in the corners of the veil of darkness that shrouded me with sleep. I didn't wake up again that night, but the morning brought the images back.

I held onto the fact that it was only a dream despite how vivid it had been.

After all, a dream was a dream, wasn't it?

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**Well, guys ****J**** What do you think? Sorry it took so long. I sometimes struggle with writers block. Anyway, REVIEW. No, don't even think about exiting this fanfic without reviewing. Hahaha. No seriously.**

**And, thank you guys, for all who reviewed for chapter one ****J****. It makes me all giggly inside.**


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